


Tortoise Inspiration

by BridgetMcKennitt



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Minor Canonical Character(s), Not Prime Time, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgetMcKennitt/pseuds/BridgetMcKennitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clyde may only be a tortoise, but he was a tortoise owned by Sherlock Holmes and Joan Watson and that made all the difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tortoise Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> Prime Time Desserts' March prompt: minor character

Clyde woke up to the sounds of loud noises crashing into the ground. He didn't know exactly what they were, but he knew why they were happening. Sherlock, the man who once wanted to eat him but decided against it, was doing something to further his knowledge. It was something Sherlock had droned on and on about while talking to him. Not that Clyde could answer back, but he felt like his presence helped Sherlock in some way. His old owner used to do the same thing, talking about all sorts of topics that Clyde was clueless on, but his owner felt better after talking to him just the same.

Then he heard Joan's voice. Whatever it was that Sherlock was doing wasn't making Joan very happy. Clyde liked Joan. She fed him the best cuts of lettuce and treated him nicely. He liked both Joan and Sherlock.

"It is urgent that I go to Boston to retrieve this package. You'll hold down the fort and contact me if I need to return," Sherlock said as he moved into the living room. Clyde lifted his head and could barely see the top of Sherlock's head from where Sherlock was. "Clyde will need a new change of bedding if you don't mind. He's been tearing up his home lately. I think he needs a new case to help solve." Sherlock nodded with a decisive nod. "He's just like me. Can't stay still for very long."

Joan sighed. "Fine. I'll let you know if Captain Gregson needs our help with a case."

"Excellent." Sherlock looked over Clyde and Clyde looked up at him. "Clyde, behave for Joan. We'll conduct an experiment when I come back."

He liked experiments. It made him feel useful.

A day went by before Joan received a call from Captain Gregson. Clyde stopped chewing on his lettuce leaf and paid attention to Joan's conversation. If it was a new case, he wanted to be in on it and help Joan figure things out. He was good at that, thanks to Sherlock. Clyde may only be a tortoise, but he was a tortoise owned by Sherlock Holmes and Joan Watson and that made all the difference.

Joan paused near him to write down something on a notepad. She repeated an address Captain Gregson told her and Joan furrowed her brow. "Wait, three people came forward and are saying they're the murderer? Is that possible?"

Clyde didn't think so, and judging by the expression on Joan's face, she didn't either. What would compel three individuals to want to confess to a murder they didn't do? Clyde was intrigued and he bet so would Sherlock if he were here.

Joan got off the phone and patted him on his shell before leaving. "I'll be back soon, Clyde."

Clyde was satisfied and continued eating his lettuce. Joan would return home soon enough and he'd find out more about the case.

*

When Joan returned home, Clyde saw she had a stack of files in her arms and a phone against her ear. Clyde crawled towards the wall of his home towards her. He wanted to soak in as much information as he possibly could.

Joan dropped the files on the table near Clyde as she continued to talk over the phone. "Yes, I already talked with each of them individually to see if their stories line up with the evidence gathered at the crime scene. Honestly? My instincts are telling me none of them killed the guy. They don't look like they have the strength or the cunning to have pulled it off such a macabre crime scene."

By the expression on Joan's face, Clyde knew she was talking to Sherlock. Maybe this would bring Sherlock home from Boston so the three of them could solve the case together. Clyde was pleased at the notion. Sherlock was the only one who let him help personally with the case.

"I brought the files home that Captain Gregson had on the case. I'll look through them until you get home. What time are you arriving?" She hung up her phone and sat down near Clyde. Joan sighed as she patted his shell. "Until Sherlock returns, do you want to help me look through these files?"

He did, but he didn't know how to read. Joan picked up the first file and opened it up. "David Jackson gave a statement and timeline for his whereabouts, ending with his supposed confession that he killed our victim, but it just doesn't add up. He couldn't have made it across town in that short of a time frame."

Clyde knew how slow traffic in New York could be. Both Joan and Sherlock have complained about it and used it to solve their cases. Clyde wasn't particularly fast on his feet, but he agreed with Joan's assessment. He continued to listen to Joan work through the files and the facts presented within. She only got through half of the files so far, but Clyde could tell that she was getting frustrated. The facts weren't adding up. The three people who confessed to the murder weren't known to each other, whether in their personal or professional lives. They didn't live near each other or had a motive to confess to a crime they didn't commit. Clyde could see why Joan was frustrated. He'd be as well if he wasn't a tortoise.

He must have fallen asleep because when he woke up, he saw Joan asleep on the chair and Sherlock was bringing a tray of breakfast to both Joan and himself. Sherlock gave him a fresh leaf of lettuce before waking up Joan.

"Morning, Joan and Clyde!"

Joan woke with a start and after she had some breakfast, the two of them began going over the files once more. At one point, Sherlock used Clyde to calculate how long it would take each person to travel to the crime scene to commit the murder. None of it made sense and Clyde agreed.

Sherlock placed him down on one of the opened files and Clyde began to walk along it, wondering if there was a way to help them out even more than he already had. He hated seeing either of them frustrated.

Suddenly, Joan was above him looking down. There was a dawning recognition on her face and she turned to Sherlock. "Look at where Clyde is on the files. Doesn't that name sound familiar?"

Clyde looked down, but he couldn't differentiate one word from another. He couldn't read.

Sherlock tilted his head as he picked up both Clyde and the file. "Hmm, yes, it does. We were right in regards that none of the three who stepped forward to confess were the actual murderer. And I think I know who was."

Sherlock placed him back in his home as Joan gathered up the files. They left to the police station, presumably to tell Captain Gregson what they discovered. Clyde didn't know what that was, but he knew it was because of him that they discovered it. He walked towards his lettuce leaf and began to chew on it. He loved solving cases.


End file.
